


Good Knight

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Injury, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has injured his hip slightly, so him and Mordred have to do things a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Knight

“Easy now...” Arthur breathed onto Mordred’s lips, not quite kissing, but it was more intimate than that, sharing breath, like passing life between them. Mordred looked up with those wide eyes of his, gasping just a little as he sunk onto Arthur, inch by inch. It was certainly not the first time they had fucked, but it was the first time doing it like this. Usually Arthur liked to be in control, fucking Mordred into the mattress with a finesse that was intense for the both of them. Today though, that would not be possible. Gwaine had knocked Arthur from his horse, and Arthur had landed rather awkwardly on his hip, making any nocturnal activities damn near impossible. Arthur though, as always, had found a way around that.

He lay back against the plush pillows, watching through blown eyes the younger boy finally settling, every inch of him surrounded by hot, tight heat, making him grip the sheets tightly, knuckles white. Mordred looked even more wrecked than he did, thin body slick with sweat, and a smear of precome across his stomach. Arthur spread it a little more with his thumb, before smiling wickedly and taking it into his mouth, tasting his knight. The extra touch that really put him over the edge was the red cloak wrapped around his pale shoulders, /his/ red cloak. The winter air had invaded the bed chamber slightly, and Arthur didn’t want his boy to catch a chill. He had bestowed the cloak upon him before having Mordred stand before him so Arthur could taste his cock, take him into his mouth. There was something intensely satisfying about feeling Mordred’s moans, feeling his legs shiver and twitch around his head, and take him apart piece by piece until he had to hold his hips to stop him from bucking into his mouth too hard. After a few minutes of kneeling though, his hip began to twinge painfully, and here they were.

Mordred finally opened those green eyes of his, searching Arthur’s blues for instruction. He was obedient, Arthur would give him that much. He gripped his sharp hips, squeezing them, studiously ignoring his dripping cock as he studied him. “Now, roll your hips forward. You can put your hands on my chest if you need the extra help.” Mordred’s eyes flashed at the challenge, and Arthur bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. Mordred did lean forward, but his fingers brushed over Arthur’s rosy nipples, making him the one to moan, and the other laugh. He’d have to get him back for that later, but it was hard to think of revenge when he had started to move. He moved his hips forward slowly, as though testing something, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tightly to better feel the body squeezing around him.

Mordred could feel the drag of his sire’s cock inside his body, a delicious sensation that immediately begged for more. Using his knees as leverage, he rolled his hips forward again, harder now, needing moremoremore of the friction making something akin to fever flash across his skin. It was odd the amount of pleasure he could get from serving his lord. He wondered how much of this feeling was physical pleasure and how much came from simply being near Arthur, being needed in this way. A question for a different time. Moans were pouring out of his mouth now as he slammed back harder to try and get Arthur’s cock even deeper, try to find the place inside him that made him tremble and flush. Then Arthur sat up. It wasn’t good for his bruised hip, but that rosy mouth crushed Mordred’s protests as he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and bucked up, hard, impossibly fast and deep, brushing that place. Mordred’s nails scored lines in Arthur’s back, his cock trapped between them and not getting anywhere near enough friction. Arthur had buried his face into his shoulder, his pants and groans mingling in the cold air along with Mordred’s moans and though he was loathe to admit it, helpless whimpers. Arthur’s hand wrenched Mordred’s head back by the hair, peppering kisses and vicious bites along the exposed skin of his neck, leaving marks that felt like a blessing on the white canvas of his skin, even as he continued to take from his body. 

Arthur’s thrusts were getting erratic, and Mordred knew he was getting close. His arms and fist had gotten tight enough to leave bruises, and Mordred could do nothing but move with him, each thrust deeper and deeper. And finally, Arthur came, panting and cursing. He only took a seconds rest before wrapping unusually careful fingers around Mordred, jerking quickly are delicately, teasing. Mordred whined, still seated in Arthur’s lap, needing more pressure, more speed, more Arthur. 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me Mordred? Going to come for your sire? I’ve told all the other knights what a good boy you are, it would be a shame to make me a liar, would it not?” He tightened his grip, his hand a blur on him, and Mordred could feel himself getting closer, his muscles tightening, everything but Arthur’s hand fading. What pushed him over the edge was feeling Arthur’s still-warm come trickling out of him and painting his thighs.

He came loudly, his noises echoing about the chamber as he spilled over Arthur’s hand, Arthur cooing his encouragements. Mordred could hear the smirk in his voice as he leaned against the blonde man’s chest, trying to recover his breath. Arthur leaned back, bringing Mordred with him, settled across his chest. He ran the hand not soaked in Mordred’s come through soft brown hair, soothing him.   
“Such a good knight Mordred...”

Mordred could only nod sleepily, thighs aching, but another type of ache fully satisfied as he drifted off to sleep with his master’s cloak wrapped around him.


End file.
